The mother held him away from her to see what he was thinking,

what to say to him, and in his frightened face she read not only

that he was speaking of his father, but, as it were, asking her

what he ought to think about his father.

"Seryozha, my darling," she said, "love him; he's better and

kinder than I am, and I have done him wrong. When you grow up

you will judge."

"There's no one better than you!..." he cried in despair through

his tears, and, clutching her by the shoulders, he began

squeezing her with all his force to him, his arms trembling with

the strain.

"My sweet, my little one!" said Anna, and she cried as weakly and

childishly as he.

At that moment the door opened. Vassily Lukitch came in.

At the other door there was the sound of steps, and the nurse in

a scared whisper said, "He's coming," and gave Anna her hat.

Seryozha sank onto the bed and sobbed, hiding his face in his

hands. Anna removed his hands, once more kissed his wet face,

and with rapid steps went to the door. Alexey Alexandrovitch

walked in, meeting her. Seeing her, he stopped short and bowed

his head.

Although she had just said he was better and kinder than she, in

the rapid glance she flung at him, taking in his whole figure in

all its details, feelings of repulsion and hatred for him and

jealousy over her son took possession of her. With a swift

gesture she put down her veil, and, quickening her pace, almost

ran out of the room.

She had not time to undo, and so carried back with her, the

parcel of toys she had chosen the day before in a toy shop with

such love and sorrow.




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